


breathe.

by vexahlla



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Game Spoilers, M/M, Seventh Palace Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexahlla/pseuds/vexahlla
Summary: A vow has turned into a blood oath.Or: Akira doesn't know how to deal with death and moving on.





	breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> just got past That Part in the seventh palace on my NG+ run and hoo boy, man it just makes you want to die as much as it does the first time. don't worry i'll avenge you............................. once i get back my tears.....
> 
> first time writing yusuke! hope i got him down, even just a little bit. he's pretty fun to write, kind of like the voice in your head that internal monologues all the time where it's very wordy and extra but general funny? that's how i pictured his voice, sans the funny part. because its not funny right now. actually its quite sad currently in the story.
> 
> this is just a really quick mess of words strewn together to capture my feelings im having a Rough time okay god i hate the seventh palace why'd ya gotta do me dirty for the 4932195th time atlus.

He’s certain that the door that separates him and Akechi will be forever burned into his memory, just like the echoing of gunshots that reverberated throughout the entire engine room, or the way that he looked at him, eyes honest and conflicted, a hint of a smile - albeit pained - on his lips. Maybe his voice will begin to haunt him in his sleep, or maybe Akira will forget what he truly sounded like, or looked like at all. Like pieces of his memory that he’ll lose again, except there’s no drug this time.

That’s funny. He’s never struggled like this before.

The Representatives Chamber, the calling card, all of it’s a faraway memory now as they unceremoniously stumble out of the Metaverse, quick to leave the Diet Building and everything within its cognitive twin behind. It’s a silent and unanimous decision that they all go back to Leblanc together, trailing after Akira towards the subways.

Yusuke hovers around Akira like a shield, tossing occasional glances his way; Akira notices, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. His stomach is still in knots. His fingers still pluck at the loose fabric of his sleeves.

It feels wrong.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Yusuke murmurs quiet enough for him to hear. It still feels too loud, as if talking about it would make it feel even more real, as if Akira cannot pretend that this is a dream, that it’s wrong, that the world will right itself and he will not feel like losing control.

He pauses. “No.”

 

\--

 

It’s later, when he realizes that Yusuke is adamant about talking. Where the others quietly shuffle away from Leblanc; Haru with Makoto, Ryuji with Ann, hell even Morgana quietly went with Futaba as the bell ringed above the cafe’s door. Yusuke stayed.

Yusuke also follows him up the stairs to his room-not-room, takes a seat on the sofa. Waits.

Akira peels off his hoodie and his jacket, fixes the sleeves on his long t-shirt - careful not to agitate the bruises on his wrists - tosses it into a corner where he doesn’t have to look at it and sits at the corner of his bed. Puts his elbows on his knees and intertwines his hands at his chin, thinking.

Death has never bothered him. A distant relative passing away? He grieved, felt a bit of sadness tug on his heart, but ultimately let it fade away within a month. It was just like that, fading, distant. It never felt _real_ to him because he didn’t know them, because if he closed his eyes hard enough they were still alive, still breathing. They still existed.

Akechi was real. Akechi was alive. Akechi breathed, and laughed, and smiled and he was _human._ A twisted, horrible human, but human well enough.

Akira knew him.

That’s the worst part. Akira knew him. He knew that Akechi came to Leblanc for actual solace on the worst days, knew that he worked diligently, that he enjoyed school to an extent, that sometimes he’d be so caught up in his detective work that he’d forget to eat or sleep. They traded jokes, smiles, talked while Akira served him coffee; even working together in the Phantom Thieves, even knowing the truth, it was _real._ It was close to him. It nestled itself within his heart, tightening the chains of his bond with Akechi.

A gunshot. A deal. A promise.

Akechi is dead. Akechi is gone. Akira knew him, considered him a friend at one point, a rival at another. He was a close confidant to his heart. Twisted, even when the chains tightened before and after their battle over Akira's heart, it was real. There's a gap, a hole, that settles itself within the middle of his chest. If this is a song, then it skips every few seconds, out of tune and out of touch. A key note missing from the chorus.

“Yusuke,” Akira chokes out. Lowers his head to his chest to hide any tears that threaten to spill. His heart is a cup and it is overflowing. “I don’t think I can hate him.”

There’s the sound of weight leaving the sofa, soft footsteps against the wooden planks, and then Akira feels the mattress dip next to him, the warmth that radiates from the boy. Akira expects chastising, or a scoff - would Morgana have scoffed? - or something that's the undertone of anger, like the way the Phantom Thieves sound like when they see the bruises still cover parts of Akira's body. The heart still bleeds from the betrayal, even if the wound has closed.

“I understand,” Yusuke says instead, catching him off guard.

Oh right. Him and Madarame. Technically the same thing, except his teacher’s alive. Would Akechi even want to atone? Would he also sit in a cell for the rest of his days?

“I’m not-” Akira moves to wave a hand around in the air, as if to emphasis his point. “-good at… this. Dealing. With my problems.”

Akira can hear the smile in the boy's voice. “I’m well aware of that.”

“It is supposed to hurt this much?” The pit in his heart seems to grow ten sizes by the minute.

Yusuke hesitates, for a brief moment. “I can’t answer that, Akira.”

Right, of course. Should’ve expected that. Everyone mourns differently and what not, Akira doesn’t really, well, _know_ the normal feeling is. His emotions are out of tune with everyone else, he does everything on a different scale than everyone else. Is it because of his leadership, or has he always been this way?

“I could’ve saved him,” he settles for, because feeling guilty is better than anything, “if I was a bit quicker.”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly and Akira immediately leans into it, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t think that you could have." Yusuke says plainly. "Akechi was quick to shoot, and the wall was raised before any of us could truly blink.” The hand drops from his shoulder, moving down to his back, rubbing comforting circles near his shoulderblades. “Only one with inhuman speed or perhaps foresight could have truly saved - or stopped - Akechi.”

“I think I kinda fall under the category of not being normal,” Akira quips. "I could've done it."

“Perhaps. But had you been able to get to Akechi, you would’ve been vastly outnumbered by his cognitive version and the other shadows.”

That's true. There’s no way Akira would’ve been able to fend them all off by himself with Akechi bleeding and bruised behind him, or if the wall was still raised, separating them from the other Phantom Thieves. His Personas can only cover so much, and he only has so much energy to spare.

“What?” Akira forces a smirk on his face. Realizes that the artist can't see it and lets it fall instead. “Don’t think I could’ve taken them?”

Yusuke laughs, which lets some of the tension bleed out of Akira’s form. “As outstanding as you are, Akira, there are limits to your abilities.”

Normal. He just wants something normal. If he can push it out of his head, then he doesn’t have to remember. Maybe there’s a chance that he isn’t gone. Maybe Futaba’s scan malfunctioned, and Akechi’s still there, waiting to be saved. Waiting for Akira-

No, he’d probably hate being saved. The idea of his pride being so tarnished that he’d need help. Would throw a high-and-mighty tantrum and explain, in great detail, the exact reasoning why he doesn’t need ‘attic trash’ like Akira saving him. Doesn’t help Akira feel any better, actually. Why can’t he just shut his brain off?

“How can I help?” Yusuke asks, unprompted, but his voice is quiet and understanding. Sometimes it feels like he can read Akira’s mind, or maybe can; maybe he just understands well enough to know what needs to be said.

Right, again, Madarame and him. He keeps forgetting. Yusuke's kind of done this before, with the _'I don't hate you but I kind of do hate you but I can't'_ attitude towards someone; if anything, he's technically the resident expert about this.

There’s a lump in his throat. “Just--” A shaky breath. “--just hold me.”

He does.

Yusuke holds him, and he cries and cries and _cries_ enough that his eyes are stinging and his head hurts and his throat feels raw; it feels good to let it out, but the realization that it actually happened doesn’t make him feel any better. Akira’s tired of losing things in his life. Hell, they weren’t even close-close and it feels like someone brutally ripped out his heart and left it to die on the side of a street curb. Still feels shitty, still feeling guilty, but better at it. Coping? Maybe not that far yet. 

“You made a deal with him,” Yusuke reminds him, gently, now with the both of them laying on the bed but Akira’s got his head tucked into the other boy’s neck. How long has he been crying? “That you would change Shido’s heart for him.”

Akira nods.

“Then change Shido’s heart, let him confess his crimes to the world, that he is and always has been a corrupt and selfish adult who does not hesitate to stoop to such heinous acts to get what he desires.” A pause. Yusuke’s mulling over his words, Akira bets. “I believe that would be the best way to honor Akechi’s memory and sacrifice.”

Memory, sacrifice -- Yusuke’s not coddling him. Akira has to accept this, whether he wants to or not. It’s refreshing. Painful, but ultimately refreshing; he has to get past this if he wants to get better, if he wants to be focused.

Akira takes a free hand, trails it down Yusuke’s arm to his hand to intertwine their fingers together. “You’ll be with me?”

There's no hesitation in his reply. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [tumblr](http://calebwidogst.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/calebwidodad)
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
